So…this morning, after the usual running around to finally get the kids out of the house, I open the front door to find a neighbor (I can’t remember her name so I’ll call her Mrs. Ben) walking up our walkway.

Mrs. Ben: “Good Morning Eileen!” Can you help me pull my stockings up this morning?” My husband can’t do it. [Damn Mr. Ben…where the hell is he?]

Me: [Purse in hand, lunch in hand, kids with overloaded backpacks and lunch boxes under foot…pushing kids out of door because we might just be running a *little* late] Uhhhh???

I survey the situation – a nice enough lady of 80 or so, as wide as she is tall, wearing knee-length shorts. One very snug support stocking appears to be fully installed…one does not. I immediately wonder just how far this other stocking needs to be pulled up.  My brain does not even realize yet that there are potentially unpleasant logistics to be worked out.  I’m only thinking about the time. I turn to the kids…tell them to hurry up and get in car because we’re late. I also begin to panic. And shiver. It is 40 degrees outside. We are not used to cold mornings in New Orleans.

Mrs. Ben: Oh…if you’re running late, I can go across the street and ask them. [she points to the house across from mine]

Me: Yeah, that would be good. I’m sorry – I am really late for work. [I silently apologize to the people across the street who will soon be tugging on that other stocking and cheer that I have found a way out of the task myself.]

Mrs. Ben: Oh that’s ok…I didn’t realize you were working. Where do you work? [Now I am half in the car, half out – as I try to hook my 5-year-old into his carseat].

Me: [sticking my head out of the car for a second] For an architectural firm.

Mrs. Ben: [from across the street now] A WHAT?

Me: [Now finished with the hooking up and literally running to the other side of the car to get in] AN ARCHITECT. Gotta go!

Moral of the story:

For me:  Get up earlier.

For the neighor:  Work on timing.